


At Long Last

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Bad End AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyon smiled at the simplicity of it all. A throne, the love of his people, even one of his beloved twins living under his roof. Such joys made all the little complications seem quite...unimportant really.  -  Bad End AU. Lyon lives to tell the tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: this story contains the following potentially triggering things: blood, needles, torture, self-harm and manipulation of the injured. 
> 
> Read at your own discretion. 
> 
> Thank you.

_“….Was it not clear that the tremors increased? Day by day as my late father waxed in his madness, our noble land shook upon its foundations! Yet his mind was focussed on expansion and not protecting you, the people of Grado. I was powerless to prevent his raging war and not a day goes by where I do not still shed a tear for every precious life ruined by their ruler’s lunacy. There is not a night where I do not pray that their souls may find comfort in the arms of the benevolent gods. In truth it is only divinity that keeps me here. I fear I must confess my sins before you all, the most unworthy of Emperors to serve such wondrous people. In my fear of my father’s wrath I could not devote myself to stopping the accursed war!”_

_“Instead… Instead I set my heart on the future! Upon the tremors, upon the future doom of my beloved Grado! Please do not judge me too harshly. I beg of you. I put my heart in a demon’s grasp, I endured his ceaseless torment, I broke so many sacred vows for a glimpse of true salvation! To save the people who had already suffered so much undeserved woe. What did my unworthy life mean when there were lives soon to be torn asunder? I gave my very soul to stop the tremors that would have engulfed the nation! Five lives, fifty lives, five hundred lives! I would undergo the fiend’s ire, the Frelian’s torture, the loss of all my senses, all and more for the rest of my existence, if it meant I could so truly serve you all and our splendid empire!”_

There was still cheering and movement outside. Lyon could see the flickering of candles through the windows. The bustle of people going to and fro was still there, still inspired and excited by hearing their young Emperor plead for their forgiveness and beseech them all to hold strong through the ongoing restoration. The candles were for the dead. Lyon had laid one himself. The courtyard had fallen into a hush when their Emperor had walked amongst them, had knelt, prayed for them all and begged for their forgiveness. Before the war Prince Lyon was a figure known for his quick mind, his gentleness and his sweet airs. The few times he had been allowed into the public eye he was shown to be a quiet adolescent of considerable manners. Little was known then but all was shown now. These days he was a disfigured young man, beaten and broken but still battling for every last one of them. No wonder people came from every corner of the empire to hear their saviour speak.

Lyon smiles at the simplicity of it all and continues painting runes upon the low ceiling. In the end, all magic was just runes and circles at its core. Light, dark, anima… switch a triad or flip a rune and you could find yourself in a completely different discipline. To the learned scholar it is just so easy. His group of researchers had blurred the boundaries between what was holy and horrific, what was true and twisted. He would never have approached such unadulterated power without some sort of plan up the sleeves of his robes. Light, dark, what was the difference in the end? If those droning priests only picked up a knife and drew themselves a few blood runes, then they’d know where their so-called godly powers came from. Faith was pointless when you had such knowledge. For all his pious acts his heart was unchanged. 

Lyon shudders and gestures for Knoll to heal the bleeding gash on his arm. He had finished the neat circles upon the ceiling but the effort had taken its toll and his aim with a knife’s point wasn’t as it used to be. Knoll helps him down off the stool and passes the Heal Staff over his arm. He says nothing. Lyon is not quite sure what to make of Knoll anymore. He had been relieved to see his prince alive and comparatively well once more, but after he had said that it appeared he had lost the ability to hold a casual conversation with him. Perhaps it was because Knoll knew the truth. He certainly isn’t buying the lies the public had lapped up. Grado still loved its Emperor but Knoll… He knows everything that happens in the castle but is still unspeakably loyal. Whether this is a particularly moral stance, Lyon is unsure, but without Knoll his life would certainly be a lot more difficult.

Lyon turns to look at him and suddenly he has the heal staff waved in his face too. He raises a hand to his face and feels the blood running down his cheek. Oh dear, had he frowned? Frowning did tend to reopen the wound. It was very inconvenient, well not when he gave the public talks. It was quite the theatrical tool then.

“Knoll, I think it would be best to lock this storeroom up for now. You don’t mind holding the key for me do you?”

“Of course not your highness.” It’s actually your Majesty now but Lyon merely smiles. He doesn’t correct his closest advisor. He leaves the store room checking for bloodstains on the white repentant robes he wears for the public eye. A servant spots him as he heads to his study.

“Your Majesty!” Lyon turns, the servant curtsies low.

“Yes Miss Eleanor?” The woman smiles. Lyon always remembers as many names as possible. People are more willing to serve if you make them feel important. Why his father never did such a thing still amazes him. It works so well.

“Queen Eirika of Renais arrived whilst you were giving your speech, Knoll directed her towards the throne room.”

“Yes, of course, tell her I will be with her most directly, thank you.” She smiles wider and hurries off. Lyon turns to Knoll who waits patiently by the stairs as if he knows what question is coming next.

“You will help me won’t you Knoll?” he asked, his tone sweeter than per usual, “I’m so sorry I have to keep being such a burden on you it’s just…I cannot see quite like I used to and stairs…they have proved quite a danger.”

“You are no trouble your highness.”

Thankfully he managed to finish his work without any stains this time. Lyon sees no danger therefore in walking into the throne room still clad in his pure whites and lilacs. Eirika is waiting for him in the middle of the room, her fact set in a grimace. As soon as Lyon sees her he dismisses Knoll and the guards before approaching with caution. The doors closes behind him with a resonating thud.

“Eirika,” he gives a bow, the fabric of his long sleeves drifting about his frame as if there were a breeze to guide them, “It’s such a pleasure to see you…Ah!”

He cradles the unmarred side of his face as he stares at her in alarm. She had slapped him, hard, glaring daggers all the while. He backs away hastily, watching her warily with wide eyes. She looks older than her years, he notices, but the passionate fury in her gaze is unchanged. She is still very much the Eirika who had run him through the thigh with her holy sword.

“Eirika, I…”

“That is _Queen Eirika of Renais_ to you,” she snaps. She is clearly livid. Lyon offers her a seat to sit on as she explains herself but she refuses his offer.

“I heard your speech today your majesty,” she informs him, her eyes flashing dangerously. Lyon smiles. Is that all? He sits even if she does not wish to.

“Did you enjoy it your majesty?”

She sits as well.

“You are lying to your people. You are glorifying the acts that cost hundreds of people across the continents their lives! You are portraying the Frelians and my own people as monsters, fiends, torturing cowards! Have you heard what they are calling you now? The Angelic Emperor, Lyon the martyr, Saint Lyon! They are comparing you to Latona herself!”

“I am aware.”

She was evidently expecting more of a reaction than he was providing her with for her hands balled into fists.

“Is there a problem?” Lyon inquires “You must understand how difficult it is to keep up the public’s morale. Grado is in the worst state of any nation and yet I can bring my people joy and rally them together as a united empire. Do you take issue with this? Do you wish Grado’s innocent people to be downtrodden and defeated because your army won the war?”

“You know I do not,” Eirika takes a deep breath as she looks about for any kind of audience She seemed to be calming down. She was certainly backing away from her fierce start, perhaps deeming it to be a better attitude for persuasion.

“I am simply concerned for you Lyon. The Frelians are the greatest power on this continent, their intelligence system was barely affected by this war and King Innes…he is not a bad person but he will not see his country endangered. Stop giving these speeches where you portray them as monsters. You’ll sleep easier in your bed if you do.”

Lyon stares at her before wrenching his sleeve up to his shoulder. She cringes at the sight.

“How opinions change,” Lyon says, his tone utterly calm, “You had no objections to how easily I slept when I was forced to spill everything I knew of dark magic and demonic purposes. I saved Grado from the earthquake that would tear it apart…I saved us all from the ancient horror…only to be thrown in a dungeon in Castle Frelia whilst you all argued about whose toy I would be.”

“It was necessary,” Eirika replies firmly, but her gaze still tracks the scarring which she knows to disappear under the loose white robe.

“I’m so glad you approved,” Lyon retorts in mock-cheer. 

Eirika sighs. She leans back in her chair, her anger fading from her face as she adopts a weary expression. As she runs her hand over her face, Lyon is quick to notice the golden ring on one of her fingers. So, Renais is soon to have a King? He ignores the slight pang in his chest and decides further investigation would have to be done later. Perhaps if the Queen so kindly stayed for dinner?

“What happened Lyon?” she soundsso tired. He would have to insist on an overnight stay.

“What happened to you? Why…Why did any of this happen? What changed you and set this all off? Was it something I did? Something Ephraim did?”

Really, they were going through this again? Had they paid no attention to what he had said during the war or did they think the demon had controlled his tongue every single hour of the day and night?

“Perhaps I had one too many needles stuck in my veins. Perhaps the vices on my fingers were too tight,” Lyon states, “Perhaps you should have asked me all this when my skin was being torn open in pursuit of answers that no one but I could use anyway.” He keeps his voice calm as if this was of no consequence to him whatsoever. 

Eirika however had stared at him as he spoke. He wonders if she was trying to piece together how he really felt by the little gaze he had left.

“You said that you loved me,” She says suddenly. She hasn’t risen to his taunting words at all. Lyon stares back at her, his expression is casual but he can tell she has caught his surprise. As a queen she has evidently learnt to read people. There was nothing quite like having the underestimated partysurprise you with the blunt truth about yourself. It was a tactic Lyon had used himself

“I also said I love Ephraim.” So she was listening back then after all.

“Do you still?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you still love me or Ephraim?” she asks, his lack of an eloquent response seems to have given her a solid footing.

“You are getting married and what Emperor is allowed relations with a man?” Lyon responds, unwilling to give her an edge over him however slight. He is an Emperor now. He is not to be challenged by the twins who had always lorded their superiority over him. He is the strong one now. He had saved his people and had now their love unlike the fickle population of Renais. He was certainly the better man now.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Eirika prompts, a small smile lingering about her lips.

“Perhaps you should bring out the needles then,” he snaps at her, “Or your vices. Perhaps even ask your friend King Innes for some of his secret assistants.”

“Our betrayal stemmed off yours,” she spoke as if he was ignoring the obvious, “If you had never consorted with fell magic. If you had never started the war in the first place, then ravaged our country and killed our father! Well, perhaps we wouldn’t have decided that information needed to be extracted from you if you hadn’t done all that in the first place.”

“I have been practicing dark magic for as long as you have known me!” Now he is angry but Eirika simply isn’t giving up.

“You were kind and gentle back then! You were our beloved friend! Now look at you, a liar, a murderer. What happened? How do we get the old Lyon back?”

“I never changed,”

Eirika glares at him. He glares straight back.

“Take me to Ephraim,” she suddenly demands, getting to her feet. Lyon copies her action, drawing his sleeve back to its rightful place.

“That’s _take me to Ephraim your Imperial Majesty_ , to you.”

\---------

He escorts her out the throne room in frosty silence. Knoll joins them as soon as they leave the vast hall. He and Eirika exchange polite pleasantries before Knoll goes back to his second job other than royal advisor. It doesn’t have a name and Lyon never formally asked him to do it, yet he does. He helps his liege with stairs, tells him if something is approaching that he perhaps couldn’t judge the distance of, and in some cases, whether there is something on the floor that could be a hazard. Eirika watches with increasing surprise as the ex-shaman gently steers his liege on the easiest route possible through the castle despite Lyon’s insistences. She stays silent so best to hear Knoll’s little reminders such as 

“Last time you climbed those stairs your highness, you put too much exertion on your leg and it gave in from under you.” When they are almost at their destination, she asks him what is wrong with his liege’s leg. He simply fixes her with a long stare and replies

“One of his highness’ thighs was run through with a holy sword.”

Eirika says nothing after that until they reach a familiar door. It is unlocked thanks to Knoll. He undoubtedly realised upon Queen Eirika’s arrival that she must be here to see her brother and had made sure the necessary preparations whilst Lyon and Eirika had had their discussion downstairs. He was so very efficient. Lyon doesn’t quite understand how he could still be so loyal after everything however the fact he is certainly should not be sniffed at. He smiles at Knoll as his advisor stands aside to let the two royals enter. 

The chambers they enter are light and airy, surprisingly bright and beautiful compared to the rest of the functional military-focussed keep. The bed chambers are full of sunshine that make the vials and bottles on the table by the window sparkle and glimmer. Propped against the wall are a variety of staves and a large stack of books, some magical tomes, some regular volumes. Ephraim is propped up in bed with such a book when they find him. Eirika hastens to his side.

“Eirika!”

“Ephraim!” 

Lyon sits on one of the bedside chairs as the twins embrace awkwardly, trying not to put too much pressure on Ephraim’s torso. Lyon hasn’t yet ascertained how exactly Ephraim received such a grievous wound. He would dearly like to take the credit however a wound this large from Nagflar would have killed instantly. To think about the matter too much makes him regretful and jealous of this unknown victor, though he has his suspicions of who they may be, so he doesn’t pursue the matter. It is some consolation though that Ephraim still has the shoulder injury he inflicted upon him. Whilst Ephraim is asleep he likes to trace the knotted scars across Ephraim’s bare skin. He can see the path the dark magic took through Ephraim’s veins and it hypnotises him. Dark magic never produces clean wounds, it always leaves evidence of its presence behind even when healed. Lyon is glad. He wouldn’t have been able to lodge Ephraim in Grado Keep if his insides weren’t festering, leaving only experts in the darker arts able to help him. 

Renais may have won but its King had most certainly lost. Lyon had stabilised the injury so the dark magic would not spread any further, yet Ephraim was still in a great amount of pain, was mostly bed-ridden and had had given up on all hopes of ruling his country. Lyon thought it such a splendid feeling to know that Ephraim’s life now rested solely in his hands. One smudged rune and he could reverse all this recovery and have Ephraim cling onto life by the fingertips again. Lyon had used magic upon magic. The pain had lessened. The wounds were partially closed. As long as the correct circles were in place the state of Ephraim’s injuries were not going to alter at all. Well, unless Lyon so wished it. He was in charge of this treatment and even though Knoll was perfectly capable, well, Knoll had other duties to be getting on with. He was very busy.

“How are you feeling?” As Eirika fusses over her brother, Lyon decides to move to the seat closest Ephraim and watch them. 

“Much better,” Ephraim gives a weak grin and clasps her arm tight to reassure her, “Definitely. Lyon said there’s no chance of more infection or anything. It’s even closing up now.”

“That’s wonderful,” Eirika movsEphraim’s fringe from his eyes, it had grown long due to Ephraim’s disinclination to have it changed. “When do you think you’ll be coming back?”

Lyon smirks. She is not going to like this answer at all.

“I’m not,” Ephraim says simply.

“Pardon?”

“I can’t come back. Even if I was to it would be years from now,” Ephraim’s eyes are on his lap. Lyon’s smirk widens but luckily neither are looking at him.

“By the time I’m fit to walk again…the healers Lyon brought in said I would have to learn how to walk all over again, let alone sit or ride or run. The people don’t need a cripple for a King who can’t ride out and save them from the monsters. How is that effort faring by the way? Are the borders secure?”

Eirika evidently doesn’t appreciate the change of subject. She huffs and replies in a rush, as if she wishes to get the synopsis over and done with and go back to talking about her brother’s health.

“The borders are a little more secure thanks to the new brotherhood of bishops that have arisen to deal with the crisis, however the monsters grow in number day by day. They pour from the Darkling Woods, some are even surviving in Jehanna’s deserts now. L’Arachel has rallied all the scholars in Rausten and they are working day and night to fulfil the demands for light tomes. Jehanna’s forges are up and running again faster than our own are and we’re using their weapons to arm our own forces. We know where the monsters are trying to get to. They’re drawn to the dark magic in the very soil of Grado itself but they have to get through us first. We’re doing our best with little to no help from Grado at all.”

Lyon has the sense to stop smirking just before she turns to glare at him.

“We have made our sincerest apologies,” he informs her with a small bow, “However Grado has very little in the way of an army anymore and we are desperately trying to keep the bandits ravaging our half-recovered towns. We cannot spare anyone right now.”

“Do not blame Lyon sister,” Ephraim insists. Eirika rounds on him.

“If you are getting better then why can you not come home? You do not have to assume the throne. The people will be gladdened by your return whatever state you come in.”

“Remember what Seth told us when we returned to Renais during the war? The people don’t care who rules them they just want to be safe. My title means I’m expected to do something for them that I can’t. I’d rather stay where I can make a difference. Lyon needs me. After all he’s been through he’s still been left with the weight of an empire solely on his shoulders. I want to be there so his back doesn’t break.” Lyon rises to his feet as Eirika turns to stare at him. Lyon adopts a softer and sadder facial expression as he stands beside her and chooses to ignore her anger.

“I said you didn’t have to give up on your family for my sake,” he says gently. It seems his presence in this discussion is unwelcome for Eirika turns to him briefly before going back to her brother.

“I would like to speak to my brother alone.”

“I shall be in the next room then your Majesty,” he sweeps from the room and closes the door behind him. As he goes he smiles as Ephraim inquires why Lyon had felt the need to talk to a friend so formally. Lyon knows Eirika will not admit to their argument. She’s fairly easy to predict. In some ways she’s still the lovely princess Lyon once adored. Part of her wants their friendship to return to how it once was. She wants to believe the best of Lyon however she can’t. Unlike her brother she has seen the current state of both their nations. She is now the Queen, hardened by her people’s suffering and a war neither wholly lost nor won. She has witnessed both Lyon’s speeches and what good his lies do. She knows her own decisions, alongside her brother’s and every other royal in Magvel’s, have only fuelled the desire of Lyon’s people to paint him a saint. By the time she had got to the Darkling Woods she had given up on saving Lyon entirely. She bore no delusions about their current state.

Lyon chooses a chair beside the door to the bedchamber and leans back, idly inspecting the scarring upon his arm. Ephraim had never given up on him, even now he still believed Lyon was some paragon of innocence that needed saving and nurturing. That was bound to cause a little sibling rivalry in the near future. Despite being able to hear everything he would have liked to remain in the room. He could of course see Ephraim whenever he so wished, however he wanted to be in the room whilst they argued and perhaps ask Eirika if she agreed with him that Ephraim did look even more handsome with those wonderful scars. Or maybe not, Eirika might decapitate him there and then. He would make do with just watching the conflict. It was just as amusing. Yet here he was, comfortably eaves dropping on his two best friends. 

“Brother, you can’t want to stay here.”

“I do,” Ephraim’s voice is stronger than usual, interesting, “I’ve made up my mind. I’m no use to Renais and Lyon needs me. There’s no choice in the matter.”

“No choice because you’ve made up your mind?” Eirika demands, “Or no choice because Lyon is keeping you locked up here?”

“Why are you being so harsh with him?”

“I don’t know,” Eirika is clearly being rather annoyed in there but just as clear are her attempts to keep her tone appropriate for the bedside of a very sick person.  
“Perhaps because he let himself be possessed by a demon, then invaded our country, killed our father and then proceeded to ruin the entire continent. “

“To save his land! You also can’t blame him for what that demon did with…”

“In saving his land he filled the very ground itself with dark magic. Monsters are flocking from the Darkling Woods, and every other dark god-foresaken place, to Grado! Yet they can’t go straight to Grado, they have to go through other countries first! They are destroying homes and slaughtering people! Lyon is to blame for this and you are defending him!”

“I’m not defending his use of dark magic, but he was obviously desperate to save his people. He couldn’t have known the monsters would do that,” Ephraim tries to reason. Lyon thought this was an interesting excuse for reasonable. It was true, he hadn’t planned for the fact that Magvel’s population of monsters would flock to Grado, but none of them had actually reached Grado so far. They were too busy laying waste to the victorious nations to ever reach his empire. It was true that Grado simply did not have the resources to deal with such things. Let the countries who actually had some semblance of an army deal with the monsters. It wasn’t as if Frelia had as much restoring to do as the rest of them did. Surely some monster killing would give them something to do with all their armed forces!

“You haven’t heard him,” Ephraim insists firmly. It was rather touching how much Ephraim always stuck up for him however misguided his thoughts had become.

“You haven’t talked to him like I have. He lost his last remaining family member, was possessed by the Demon King, had his free will utterly torn from him as the monster forced him to commit huge atrocities and murder people with his own hands. His country fell, he would have died if it wasn’t for the fact we saved him. But what happened then? He was thrown in a dungeon with little food or sunlight for three months whilst we all agreed he should have all his knowledge tortured out of him. Now he’s ruling an empire he never wished to be in charge of and managing to rally his people together.”

“And the conclusion is? I’m not denying what he’s been through isn’t horrible but I think you’ve…”

“He’s bearing all that alone and somehow managing it,” Ephraim suddenly interrupts her mid-sentence, “Yet some day he’s going to break again. Look at me, I’m broken and I didn’t even endure all that.” That’s right, Lyon thinks as he begins to run his hand up and down his aching arm. Ephraim is the one bed-ridden and yet despite being as battered as a training dummy, he is still walking about as freely as ever, well unless you discount the occasional flight of stairs. The bitterness in Ephraim’s voice is just wonderful. It just so happened now that he is the pathetic one who needed to checked on and cared for and Lyon… well Lyon is an emperor and a saint. He has been made been made untouchable due to the love of all those around him.

“Sometimes when we talk he sounds so exhausted,” Ephraim continues, “Like he just wants to sleep and never wake again. Without Knoll about he would waste away, but Knoll can’t always be there. He’s incredibly thin, he limps when he walks and his face…his face hasn’t healed entirely. Sometimes when he frowns or smiles it bleeds again. Every time I look at him I can hear his screams. In my nightmares I see him slashing at his own face again. Sometimes in those dreams, I don’t get the stone off L’Arachel in time. Sometimes she refuses to heal him. I don’t want to go back to Renais to suddenly find Knoll in the throne room one afternoon to tell me Lyon has starved himself, or has fallen down the stairs and broken his neck. I’m staying here. I couldn’t protect him before but I can now.”

“Ephraim…”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

Eirika huffs and Lyon wonders whether they are thinking the same thing. Ephraim is still trying to be the strong emotionless protector despite the fact he’s the one confined to this guest room. It’s rather lovely how he’s still so adamant but his well-being is entirely under Lyon’s control. Well if it helped Ephraim bear his situation then why should Lyon seek to change his mind? 

The resounding silence in the bedroom only proves to make the sound of approaching footsteps even louder. By the time the door was opened Lyon is far from it. By the time Eirika has seen him he is looking out the window as if he had never even considered listening in at all. Eirika glares at him. He lookes back at her, politely curious. Oh they are enemies now. Such a shame that her brother isn’t going to be able to attend her wedding if she is planning to hold it anytime soon. 

“He wants to see you more than he wants to see me.”

“I don’t quite understand?” Lyon knows Ephraim can hear them so keeps up his sweet curious facade, “You’re his dear sister and you visit so rarely. Ephraim and I can meet whenever we so wish.” 

Eirika says nothing in reply so Lyon sweeps passed her and approaches Ephraim.

“Are you feeling better Ephraim?” He stands by the bedside and gently runs his fingers over Ephraim’s torso, noticing where his hand is when the prince cringes.

“Same as yesterday,” Ephraim replies, “I’d prefer a conversation that doesn’t involve how there’s a gaping hole in my body though.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyon presses his hand against Ephraim’s forehead to see if there is any dramatic change in temperature. There is not. The circles are evidently working.

“What about you?” Ephraim asks. He takes Lyon’s hand off him and gives it a squeeze before letting it go, “Are you alright?”

“I am fine, there’s nothing you need to do.” Hopefully they aren’t going to have this discussion in front of Eirika. Lyon is very aware that she’s still there; he’s just choosing to ignore her.

“Well, sorry if I feel like I haven’t achieved anything in years,” Ephraim huffs, he tries to cross his arms then regrets the action immediately. Lyon pins his arms to his sides and raises an eyebrow at him to stop him doing it again.

“Well, you saved me,” he replies warmly, smiling as Ephraim does. He lets one of Ephraim’s arms go and soon has Ephraim’s free hand cupping the unspoilt side of his face, brushing back the hair that shouldn’t be there. Lyon’s hair is a lot longer these days because it helps to hide his disfigurement. Ephraim clearly doesn’t like it. He’s made it quite clear that he wishes this could have all happened without the added injury. Lyon knows he wouldn’t be here without it but he lets Ephraim have his whimsical what ifs.

“I suppose I did.” Ephraim pulls back Lyon’s over-long fringe and Lyon hears a partially muffled gasp from behind. Why thank you Eirika, he internally grumbles, it isn’t as if you haven’t seen it before. His was no longer a face you could forget in a hurry. Ephraim doesn’t seem to care however. Eirika really should take her brother’s example.

“Your right eye looks better,” Ephraim comments. He’s drawing their attentions away from his own injuries onto Lyon’s. It’s a favourite tactic of his.

“There isn’t an eye there,” Lyon gently corrects him. He doesn’t snap at Ephraim. What would be the point of that? 

“Well, I mean…where your eye was,” Ephraim says a little awkwardly. He moves his hand back to the unmarred cheek and allows Lyon’s hair to fall back over the side of his face. 

“I’m used to it now,” Lyon says, “Ignore all of Knoll’s little reminders.”

“He said you walked into a wall,” It was Ephraim’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. Lyon decides to inform Knoll sometime it was no longer his job to fill Ephraim in about his various mishaps, no matter how worried Ephraim seems.

“I misjudged the distance of a running servant who hadn’t seen me, I had to quickly move out of the way in time and lost my balance slightly.”

“If you have so much trouble,” Eirika finally speaks again after clearing her throat, “Why don’t you just spend most of your time either in your study or your office? What’s the need to exert yourself making such long speeches or doing similar public appearances.” _Stay inside and stop telling lies_ was her rather obvious implication.

“My state matters not when there are people who have travelled from the furthest borders to hear me talk. I give them hope for a better future. How could my health matter more than that?” _You’re not going to win this argument_ was his clear implication back. They could not argue here and now. Not whilst Ephraim was in the room anyway. He could make himself sound as sweet as necessary and Ephraim would always back him up. Eirika was not going to argue with her brother when he was in such a pitiable state. The fact they’ve been touching each other so freely in front of her should have clearly shown she was battling an unbreakable alliance.

“You can always take a break, spread the message that you are ill,” she says as if to remind him, “You don’t have to work constantly on your…”  
“An Emperor never stops working,” Lyon interrupts her with a purposefully sad smile, “My father worked himself until he was so ill that he died. He was a splendid Emperor. Perhaps it is my duty to follow in his footsteps. Yes, I shall serve Grado until my end.”

“You are not going to die,” Ephraim says firmly. Lyon could detect a little pain in his tone. He is hiding his pain very well but it is pleasing on the ear to be reminded the pain is most certainly still there.

“I’m not exactly at the height of well-being…” He isn’t allowed to finish his sentence.

“I am not going to watch you die again,” Ephraim barks, he shifts slightly in bed and now his pain is even more obvious, “You mean too much to m…Grado. There are people who still need you.”

Lyon couldn’t help but smile. You mean too much to me. Ephraim still needed him! Ephraim would always need him. Who was the weak one now after all had been done and said? Who had been the foolish one to ride into battle day after day and still think they could all come out of it unchanged? How lovely it would be for them to all be friends just as they once were. Yet here they were, Eirika had grown hard and resilient. He had become mighty and beloved by all and Ephraim… well it brought him glee just to look at what had once been so splendid. Lyon knew he had caused this and it was marvellous.

“I’ll try my best,” he seals his promise with a kiss to the forehead as he sits on the corner of the bed. The small noise Eirika makes is hilarious but he forces back the laughter. She sounds like she has just sat on something prickly. Ephraim looks at her in concern.

“Is anything the matter?”

“No,” her livid tone contradicts her reply, “No. I will talk with you both, separately, tomorrow. I will ask Knoll where my chambers will be. Good night.” Before they manage to reply, she has already swept from the room.

Ephraim stares at the door and Lyon watches his reaction. He is clearly clueless. After a moment or so of staring at blank space, Ephraim returns his gaze to the man beside him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why she’s so angry. Something bad must be weighing on her mind. Probably something at home.”

“I don’t mind,” Lyon replies, “She must be so tired from her journey here. She’ll probably feel better for a good night’s sleep.”

“Yes, of course,” Ephraim shifts a little and Lyon shoots him a warning glare.

“I’m alright! Just making room, that’s all. Talking of a good night’s rest, I was wondering…” He gestures to the space beside him in the rather large bed.  
Lyon smiles and kisses him on the forehead again.

“You just want to see my fluffy morning hair again.”

“Perhaps. Though didn’t Knoll say something about you sleeping better when…” Lyon puts his hand over Ephraim’s mouth.

“Knoll says too much sometimes. Let me make sure everything is in order and I’ll return to you.”

It took very little time for him to come back. Knoll was outside the door to Ephraim’s chambers. As ever Knoll seems to predict his every move. He passes Lyon a night robe and informs him Eirika is in a cantankerous mood so he has placed her in the furthest guest room from Ephraim’s for the night. Lyon thanks him and retreats back inside to change then join the invalid waiting for him.

“That wasn’t very long,” Ephraim comments as Lyon returns to him in his night robe. 

“Knoll seems to believe there is no further need for my wakefulness tonight.”

“Good.” Ephraim pats the bed beside him rather gingerly. Lyon curls up beside him as he brushes his hair aside. He can’t stand it tickling him as he sleeps.

“You know,” Ephraim says as he yawns, “I don’t mind your face,”

“Well I’m sure what’s left of my face appreciates your comment.” Lyon loves this kind of talk but he’d rather sleep right now. 

“You know what I mean,”

“I do,” Lyon replies gently, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Ephraim closes his eyes as he mumbles something resembling ‘good night’. Lyon wishes him a peaceful rest and watches him slowly fall into just that. Sleep seems to be the best duller of pain, or that was what he always noticed whenever Ephraim slept. He always finds it remarkably peaceful just to lie on his side and watch the ex-prince doze. Ephraim is so fast asleep that he never notices what Lyon does. Lyon is sure he could cut his name into Ephraim’s shoulder and he wouldn’t even wake. He resists doing that however. It would be hard to explain in the morning.

Instead he lays the sensitive side of his face over the beautiful scar on Ephraim’s shoulder . It would undoubtedly bleed during the night, if not sooner. If he just dug his longest nail in slightly…Ephraim’s shoulder begins to bleed too. Lyon yawns and feels something tender give way. Settling down to rest, he lets their tainted blood mingle as he enjoys the sound of Ephraim’s ragged breath. This is the sort of closeness contained in his fantasies and Eirika could only look on and do nothing about them. It would be such a petty matter to start a war over and neither of their countries could deal with such a happening. How interesting tomorrow will be! With this happy thought, he manages to follow Ephraim into slumber.


	2. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new Emperor's advisor constantly tries to justify it all in his mind. However now he is losing confidence in his own sanity. Well, at least he isn't guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings as the first chapter reply. This chapter happens alongside the first. Lyon isn't the most reliable narrator so perhaps another side of the story would be of use? Then again, I do have a weakness for unreliable narrators c:

Of late his highness has needed constant care and attention. He strives to do so much and his mind is as quick as ever, yet his body is beyond permanent repair. At the rate he pushes himself I believe his years are shortening every day. He cannot travel far without assistance but refuses to use a staff or stick. His eyesight, and therefore balance, will never be the same again. Every journey is a challenge. He struggles day in day out yet he does so much for his people. He will work himself until his end. I must confess to worrying that this end may be soon and perhaps sudden.

He is loved by the people. His recovery plans are certainly controversial enough to grip their attention. He is the first Emperor of the people. He makes frequent public appearances. Not only that, instead of doing the proper course of action for a fallen empire – to reinforce its armed forces as soon as possible – his highness instead puts the rebuilding of livelihoods as the court’s key aim. He emptied the coffers of the Keep, he forced every noble family and dukedom to give up most of their wealth or face being stripped of their titles. The people love his highness, if they were to know their lord or duke had opposed him, said noble would be branded evil, a traitor, the citizens would take what they were owed regardless and the deposing would be violent. That is what his highness has assumed. I believe him to be correct. I have attended many a meeting discussing matters that have never touched these halls before. The sale and distribution of livestock has been a frequent matter of debate. It is as if the recovery will be found in crates full of chickens. Livestock provide both work and food. When the empire’s agriculture is back then so will its trade, its artisan professions will have its resources… His highness is unusual for an Emperor but brilliant. However there have never been so many farmers in the Keep’s halls before.

The farmers are of course not the only peculiar guests at the Keep. Prince Ephraim (never King, he is likely never to return to Renais) is more of a resident now than a guest. I must accept the responsibility for this unexpected turn of events and confess I have not informed my liege of my guilt. His highness adores this change so I cannot feel too badly about it. If this is the only joy I am able to provide him then my regrets at almost felling the Prince of Renais are small and easily forgotten in my liege’s smile. I know my thoughts are not moral but the wickedness of my past endeavours have already condemned my so-called immortal soul. One more stain in the pursuit of causing happiness does not bother me much.

I am sure on this. He deserved it and it was for the best. I will confess to no more than that. His highness is much happier now. Even whilst I worry for his health, both physical and of the mind, he is at least happy. He has so little life left therefore that is my primary aim. If I had not reacted on instinct, his months remaining would no doubt have dwindled to weeks. Occasionally I still hear his screams. They insisted on keeping me there in Frelia. The prince and princess were very hospitable. The twins of Renais were kind to me when were in each other’s company however the accusation remained in the prince’s eyes. _You did not tell me this._

I did not know how his highness did it. It was naïve of me to assume my prince would honour me with all of his knowledge. I had told the Prince of Renais all that I knew. All I said was true but his highness’ research into his own recovery was either during my spell in prison or simply done separately from me. I could not work out how he did it whilst in that bloody temple. On seeing him alive in that prince’s arms I must confess to becoming quite weak. I could not get near him, the royal twins were savouring their relief, however I believe my knees would not have taken me to his side anyway. I had expected to bury him. I’m afraid I still…

He is happy right now, though he loves the sight of his friend’s blood and revels in lies so plain to the experienced eye. He does not believe he is the second coming of Saint Latona but if he focuses on the admiration of the people, well, I believe it masks his guilt. I have come to realise after my maiming of a soon-to-be King that guilt is easily distracted from. I do not feel such a pressing weight because his highness is happy. His highness ignores the crushing weight upon his shoulders by lightening the people’s spirits. I am sure he has not forgotten. It is why he prefers not to sleep alone at night. A small additional bed has been put in the Emperor’s chambers, if his highness is to sleep away from his beloved Renaitian, that bed is occupied by myself. His highness loses himself in slumber. Sometimes he believes the demon still speaks to him. Sometimes he believes he must still confess everything he knows.

The torture was entirely unnecessary. I saw all of it, I had to, I was the only other expert in dark magic they had. My insistence had also made my presence more likely. I had just discovered my liege was alive and well, what could make me leave his side? Certainly not a prince or even a King. The torture was undoubtedly not the worse the Frelians could have come up with but the expression on my prince’s face was torture in itself. At first he refused. I do not know why. He had nothing to gain from refusing. If he thought he was going to be executed anyway, perhaps that was his means of getting it over sooner rather than later. Perhaps he endured in the hope of gaining sympathy from his beloved twins. With his highness’ mind in the state it is, I would not put this past him. He started screaming on his second bout of torture. Having twenty needles inserted in an arm not yet fully recovered from a seemingly-final battle does not make an endurable experience. He told them everything in the end. 

I am ashamed to say I had heard none of it before. According to his highness, the power of the sacred stones does not merely come from the blessing held with the mineral structures. The true power is fuelled by the desires of people’s hearts, namely, their emotions. Saint Latona was believed to have escaped possession by the power of his or her heart. A strong enough emotion could beat back the Demon King’s control. However for any chance at freedom, a sacred stone and a sacred weapon must be involved. His highness had taken an almighty risk. His plan would only work if at least one sacred stone remained and this sacred stone was in the hands of someone who cared enough about him for the emotion to have sufficient strength to set him free. 

Sacred power comes from the heart…well, Prince Ephraim had the stone in the end. I have no comment about this. His highness must have known that the prince would never give up on him and therefore used Ephraim’s strength to his own advantage. However he had to provide an overwhelming feeling of his own, a feeling so overwhelming it could overpower the Demon King’s grip. He chose pain thus… it was horrific. To see his highness slash at his own face in such a desperate fervour! We still do not know where he kept that dagger but… Thank goodness Princess L’Arachel of Rausten was on hand with the sacred staff. That combined with the pain, and Prince Ephraim’s grip on the stone, that saved his highness. I did nothing then. I know I couldn’t have but I wonder if the sacred stone had been in my hand…? It is wrong to consider the possibilities.

Therefore his highness lives unto this day. His face never healed, he still bears the injuries inflicted upon him in that final battle. Now he possesses criss-crossing scars from the torture. They could not be sure he had said all he knew after his highness had explained his methods, so they carried on trying to get information from him. His highness sobbed that there was no more, he started babbling random parts of our research. Useless facts about rune triads and ships. They carried on trying to get sense out of him for two more weeks, before… well before…my accident.

Prince Ephraim of Renais, like myself, stood over much of the proceedings. He clutched his lance, or his cape, ever so tight. He stared as if unable to look away. He refused to leave as he watched my prince scream. After almost a month of torture, he suddenly advanced on Lyon and his torturers. As my prince’s screams echoed round the room I suddenly was driven to believe Prince Ephraim was to hurt my liege too. Everyone bar myself seemed to approve of this pain and therefore Ephraim was going to hurt my prince even more. I acted without thinking. Gleipnir, the sacred tome of Grado, was still in my possession. I unleashed the spell at the prince and he crumpled. He has never been the same. For two months they tried to help him at Castle Frelia, during this time my prince was locked in the dungeons, not tortured, but alone, in pain, and often hungry and cold. I was forced to be at Prince Ephraim’s bedside. Surprisingly no one called for my execution. Apparently on regaining consciousness Prince Ephraim had vouched for me, but he never spent a great deal of time very aware of what was going on around him. It was finally decided Castle Frelia’s resources were insufficient, Prince Ephraim had to be taken to Grado where the expert knowledge was. Also the expert had to be called in. 

Due to Prince Ephraim’s great need, my prince was finally released. He was a frightened wreck when first taken out of the dungeon however as he spent more time with Ephraim, working on how to heal him, the old Prince Lyon returned steady, proceeding to warp into…what his highness is now. It is simply foolish to believe his highness could pass through demonic possession unchanged, also his imprisonment could not have assisted matters. However the new Emperor… The servants, even though most love him, call him disturbed. I do as much as I can so they do not have to see him in his happiest moments.

Prince Ephraim’s happy moments have steadily dwindled in frequency. As soon as he regained some strength, he refused to stay still. He insisted that he could walk, he could do matters himself, that he could help my Emperor. He could not. Every time he rose, he hurt himself further and despite all attempts to hide it, no one was fooled. His highness coaxed him back to bed when he could, in other times, Prince Ephraim had to be physically restrained by a pair of guards. Occasionally he would be driven to rage, shouting in frustration at his own inability, how weak and how useless he felt. He told all he met that he was being made to look little and pitiful. That no one was treating him with the same respect any more. The irony was not lost on his highness or myself. I must confess to sharing partially in his delight. Prince Ephraim, you spent so much of your time making my liege feel weak and worthless. Your own medicine is bitter, is it not? Whatever feelings are there, the prince of Renais and new Emperor of Grado rise and fall as if one a see-saw. When one is empowered, the other falls, and visa versa. It just so happens to be my liege’s turn up top. How long that will last, I do not know.

When Emperor Lyon is no more, I will leave this place. Not due to guilt. Never that. The walls of Grado Keep are made of cold stone, seemingly impenetrable. It certainly provides an inescapable container. I must take my chance when I can. It is a place of orderly madness. Like the Keep, my liege shows an infallible exterior but when you see what is within…. Sometimes I think I must be mad. I wipe the bloodstains from his face, patch up any re-opened wounds and assist him to his chambers. He spent last night with Prince Ephraim again and not in his own belt. I will send a healer to check on what his highness has done to our…patient. As I take him to his own chambers, his highness smiles in a way he never used to. It is a smile more akin to that which passed my cell door, yet I know the demon does not remain. Despite all the blood, the memories, the cursed healing and the public lies, I act as if nothing has changed. I talk softly, tread lightly, act politely, just as I had once done before spending a year in a cold stone dungeon. There lies my madness I suppose. So much has happened but we cling onto what we treasure. His highness treasures his medical captive. I treasure his highness. When his highness is gone I will have naught left to treasure. My madness will break and I will be free.

For today however, we have to have breakfast the angry Queen of Renais and hold a meeting about cows. Everything seems much saner, and far less guilty, when you lose yourself in duty.


End file.
